Arrival: Late Afternoon. Look west, hike to bottom of trail. View from top was better. Plus creepy creepers lurking in the reeds everywhere down here. Trash strewn. Beautiful place, but yuck. Back to top. Look east, hike toward cove on that side of this headland. Trash strewn. Starting to feel guilty. Might head back to the van and dump some beer cans and toilet paper around at random to blend in better with all the creepers crawling all over this place. Continue on, decide not to add my own trash. Arrive at fork. Turn right, holy mackaroly, that’s a neat cave. Spend some time enjoying this marvel of nature. And graffiti. Because that’s what I feel like doing when I see a place this beautiful. Quick! Write my name on something, pronto! I Still prefer the view from the top though. Head back up the trail. Am I being followed? Creeper country picnic down here. Scope view from top. Neat granite rock formation in foreground. Like an arcing wave. Covered in graffiti, of course, because names need to be written here. Go back to van, retrieve supplies return to paint. College girls smoking weed and giggling. No thanks, but thank you for offering. They leave and another couple shows up and picks up where the girls left off. But they don’t offer me any. I don’t hold it against them. One more group of kids show up, and climb over directly in front of where I’m painting. But they leave because it smells like piss down there. Because after writing your name on a rock, you usually need to pee on something… like the rock you just wrote your name on. The day gets late. A cute young couple expecting their first child shows up with a photographer to take pretty sunset photos. Probably going to crop out the beer bottles and graffiti. Not me. They are part of the story. When I am done I drink a beer of my own while the sun finally sets. I ponder smashing the bottle and pissing on it before I leave, but instead I take it with me and leave no trace. I guess I don’t belong here.